Akem became the protector of Maroo not by choice, but by necessity.
When the united nations of Alcazar declared war, they expected armies, fleets, defenses, and counter-attacks.
Instead, they faced one boy.
Akem stood between Maroo and annihilation, wielding the ocean as both shield and executioner. Every invasion attempt ended the same way—warships shattered beneath towering waves, transport fleets torn apart before reaching shore, soldiers swallowed by the sea before setting foot on land.
It was not war.
It was slaughter.
Seven years passed.
Seven years of constant bloodshed.
Seven years of screams carried away by tides.
Seven years of a child forced to become a weapon.
By the time Akem turned fifteen, his hands had ended more lives than most men could comprehend in a lifetime.
The sea still obeyed him.
But his heart no longer did.
Maroo, once fertile and thriving, began to die.
Trade had collapsed.
Soil lost its richness.
Crops failed.
Livestock perished.
The land could no longer sustain its people.
The citizens of Maroo spoke in hushed voices of escape—of leaving their ancestral home in search of a future. But the war made departure impossible. Any ship that attempted to leave risked being intercepted, destroyed, or tracked by Alcazar's fleets.
Maroo was trapped.
Akem watched his people weaken.
Children grew thin.
Elders starved.
Hope eroded.
And the sea, once his ally, now reflected only grief.
"I can't keep killing," Akem whispered one night, standing alone at the shore. "And I can't let them die."
That was when the idea came.
Not a safe plan.
Not a certain one.
A desperate one.
If Maroo could not survive on Planet Zee…
Then Maroo would leave it.
Akem began preparing in silence.
He secluded himself atop the highest cliff overlooking the ocean, sitting in stillness as waves crashed far below. For a full day and night, he meditated—no food, no water, no sleep.
The world passed around him.
Storms threatened.
Winds howled.
But no attack came.
It was as if fate itself was holding its breath.
Akem reached beyond the ocean.
Beyond the sky.
Beyond the limits of his world.
He pushed his consciousness into the vast unknown of the universe, searching for a place untouched by war—a planet capable of sheltering millions.
He saw stars.
Nebulae.
Worlds burning.
Worlds dead.
Worlds already claimed.
He pushed farther.
His mind strained.
His body trembled.
And then—
A vision.
A new world.
A distant planet glowing with technology, towering structures, artificial skies, and advanced civilizations.
Planet Dorlak.
Akem saw a future.
His people stronger.
Smarter.
Evolved.
No longer hunted.
No longer powerless.
But he also saw a warning.
A cost.
A sacrifice that would fall on him alone.
Still, he accepted it.
Because Maroo's survival mattered more than his own strength.
On the second night, Akem drew in every ounce of power left within him.
The wind began to rise.
Not only in Maroo.
But across all of Planet Zee.
Clouds darkened.
Skies blackened.
Storm systems collided.
Hurricanes formed where none had existed.
Oceans churned violently.
Across continents, people looked up in fear.
They could feel it.
Something monumental was happening.
Akem remained in meditation, unmoving as reality trembled around him.
He focused on every citizen of Maroo.
Every family.
Every child.
Every elder.
Every survivor scattered across lands, camps, ships, or foreign prisons.
He reached for them all.
Then—
He pulled.
A flash of light rippled across Maroo.
And in the span of seconds…
Millions vanished.
The entire population of Maroo disappeared from Planet Zee.
No ships.
No portals.
No delay.
Just instantaneous relocation.
A civilization lifted from one world and placed onto another.
Across the universe, they reappeared on the surface of Planet Dorlak—confused, frightened, breathless.
The journey had taken seconds.
But the cost was immense.
When Akem opened his eyes, he collapsed.
His body had aged thirty years in a single moment.
Wrinkles lined his face.
His posture sagged.
His breath weakened.
And the ocean…
No longer answered him.
He reached for the water.
Nothing moved.
His power was gone.
Gone completely.
He had traded godhood for salvation.
Around him stood millions of displaced people—men, women, children—staring in shock at their new world. Some clutched each other. Others fell to their knees. Some wept.
Among them were freed prisoners, former slaves, survivors of Alcazar's cruelty—those who had barely survived long enough to see freedom.
Fear filled the air.
"Where are we?"
"What happened?"
"Is this the afterlife?"
Akem struggled to stand.
His legs trembled.
Then he saw them.
Afumi.
Nairobi.
His older but now younger sisters—now teenagers.
They stared at him in disbelief.
"Akem…?" Afumi whispered.
Even though he had aged significantly they both could recognise their brother infect he now strongly resembled their late father.
He rushed forward, pulling them into his arms, tears pouring freely.
"You're safe," he sobbed. "You're both safe."
Nairobi hugged him tightly. "What did you do?"
He trembled.
"I brought us here," he said. "I saved everyone… but I don't know what comes next."
Their expressions shifted.
Relief.
Fear.
Grief.
And pain.
"But you've aged, did doing this cause you to age so much?" Nairobi asks
Akem nods reluctantly not wanting to reveal the extent of his sacrifice.
Afumi's voice broke.
"…Mother didn't make it."
The words struck like a blade.
"She was killed in Alcazar," Afumi continued quietly. "A general wanted to force her into marriage. She refused."
Akem's chest tightened.
He bowed his head, tears falling.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I couldn't save her… but I promise I'll protect you."
Before grief could settle further—
A sudden mechanical hum echoed through the sky.
The people looked up.
One hundred futuristic robotic units descended from above, hovering in perfect formation. Their bodies gleamed with metallic precision, glowing lenses scanning the crowd. Weapons activated instantly, locking onto Akem and the refugees.
Panic surged.
Cries erupted.
Children screamed.
Instinctively, Akem stepped forward despite his exhaustion.
"Everyone—raise your hands," he commanded. "Do not resist."
The people obeyed, fear trembling through their bodies.
One robot floated forward and emitted a scanning pulse, analyzing Akem and the gathered crowd in seconds.
The weapons powered down.
The robotic formation relaxed.
The leading unit produced strange synthetic tones—mechanical clicking and layered static. It was possibly going through all known languages in the universe to find the humans language.
Then it spoke.
Clear.
Human.
"Refugees detected. No hostile intent confirmed."
The people gasped.
The robot continued.
"You are welcome on Planet Dorlak."
Akem stared, stunned.
"We too once fled a world consumed by aggression, conquest, and annihilation," the machine said. "This planet has space. Resources. Protection. You will not be hunted here."
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the crowd.
The robots lowered fully.
"You will be sheltered. Educated. Integrated. Protected."
Akem exhaled slowly.
"…Thank you," he said quietly.
In the weeks that followed, the people of Maroo were introduced to a civilization far beyond anything they had imagined.
Cities built from living metal.
Floating districts.
Artificial ecosystems.
Energy-driven agriculture.
Medical technology capable of healing wounds once considered fatal.
The robotic guardians—remnants of an ancient displaced species—guided them patiently.
Children learned faster than expected.
Adults adapted.
Engineers trained.
Scientists collaborated.
And Akem…
Akem watched.
Older.
Weaker.
But alive.
He spent his days helping his people settle, telling stories of Maroo, honoring those lost, and ensuring his sisters were cared for.
Afumi trained in strategy.
Nairobi studied technology.
Both carried their mother's strength.
And Akem carried her memory.
One year passed.
And the people of Maroo were no longer refugees.
They had become hybrid humans—enhanced through Dorlak's advanced integration systems. Their bodies strengthened. Their minds sharpened. Their capabilities expanded.
They wielded weapons among the most powerful in the galaxy.
Not as conquerors.
But as defenders.
A new civilization was born.
Not from conquest.
But from survival.
Akem stood atop a balcony overlooking their growing city, feeling the weight of everything he had sacrificed.
He had lost his youth.
Lost his power.
Lost his home.
But he had saved his people.
And somewhere deep within him, he wondered—
If the universe had truly finished with him…
Or if this sacrifice was only the beginning of a greater destiny.